Tangled
by TacitaScriptor
Summary: What happens, when magic goes wrong, and the Dragonborn is transported to the world of Fallout? M/Courier X F/Dragonborn. Rated M for violence and whatever else might happen.
1. Chapter 1

Once again he had gotten himself in a sticky situation, the Courier thought to himself. Standing in front of him was a squad of Legionnaire hit men, machetes drawn, ready to charge at him. It wasn't the first time Caesar had sent a group out to collect his head, and normally it wouldn't have been that big of an issue. He was, after all, rather proficient at killing.

The problem at hand, was the lack of bullets in his guns. Matter of fact, he was down to six bullets in his trusty .44 revolver, and he could forget all about his hunting rifle. He'd spent the last of those rounds several hours ago.

There was of course always his combat knife. That wasn't a very reassuring prospect though. The legionnaires were, after all, heavily drilled in melee combat. It was practically all they used.

With a slight sigh, he put his hand on the pistol, still in its holster. It'd be tough, but with a bit of luck, he could make it out of this alive. His veteran ranger armor would probably keep him going for a while, but it only covered his torso, and sooner or later they would find some way through it.

For a while, they simply stood there, staring at each other, with nothing but sand between them. He wasn't sure what they were waiting for, but he didn't mind. It gave him some more time to contemplate his options.

There were five of them. To the Courier, it looked to be four regular legionnaires, and one leader. He never could remember all their titles.

"Finally we have hunted you down. Caesar will be pleased when we present him your head!" the leader yelled.

The Courier rolled his eyes: "Spare me your crazy shit, and let's do this. I ain't going down without a fight." He replied, unclipping the strap that kept his revolver securely in the holster.

The legionnaires snarled: "As you wish! For Caesar!" they yelled, and started their charge.

The Courier pulled his gun, lined the sights up with the closest head, and was about to pull the trigger when his attention was caught by something else entirely. A strange sound had come out of nowhere, as if the air was reverberating, and it seemed to be originating from a point right between him and his foes. It seemed they heard it too, however they were not distracted, and continued their charge.

The Courier pulled himself together. He couldn't let such a thing distract him. This was life or death. Yet, just as he re-aligned the gun, glowing blue particles appeared out of the blue from all around, and flew to the exact point, from where the sound was coming. Finally, the legionnaires stopped just in front of the anomaly, seeming just as perplexed as the Courier.

More and more of the strange lights rushed together, until they formed a large blue ball of light. As the growth of it ceased, it instead seemed to turn brighter, shade changing from blue to white at an alarming rate. The Courier lifted his hand to shield his eyes, as the brightness of the light rose to be practically blinding. Then, as if nothing had happened, the shining orb seemed to implode, disappearing into itself. For a brief moment, the Courier thought that would be all.

He was too quick to make that assumption however, as an explosion of light burst from where the orb had been, with a noise so loud it left a ringing in his ears.

For a period of time far too long for his liking, the Courier was blinded, and deafened. He rubbed his eyes, and slowly he regained his senses, only to doubt what he was seeing.

There, standing between him and the legion hit men, was a strange woman. She was no taller than him, and had jet black hair falling freely to her shoulders, that stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. She was clad completely in black, and was wearing a strange form of armor. It seemed to be a dark, leathery material, shaped into several overlapping pieces that covered from her throat, and all the way to her thighs. It followed the shape of her body nicely, not leaving much to imagination. At her sides was a set of matching sword and dagger, elegantly produced from the same black metal.

The Courier couldn't help but feel a sense of awe, as the dust fluttered around her legs in the strong wind. Unlike himself and the legionnaires, she did not at all seem surprised. Instead, she looked around, calmly taking in her surroundings. Her eyes briefly fell on the legion soldiers, but she didn't seem to have noticed the Courier yet, which was fine by him. He couldn't place it, but he had a bad feeling about this strange woman. Not just because she had appeared out of nowhere, even though that was odd enough. There was an aura of fear surrounding her, and he had no doubts that she was dangerous. She was trouble.

The legion men seemed to arrive at the same conclusion, because without much hesitation, they charged at her, roaring their usual 'True to Caesar!' bullshit.

The woman turned her head to them. From behind he couldn't see her expression, but judging by how calmly she drew her sword, she wasn't exactly intimidated.

True enough, as the first soldier came close enough to swing at her, she swiftly ducked under his arm in a spinning motion, drawing the edge of her blade across his torso. It would seem she kept it sharp, because the man split open like a carved brahmin, intestines and blood spilling out around his feet before he even started falling over.

The woman continued her offense towards the next man with a slash across his arm, at the same time as she stood up. The arm fell to the ground, followed by its owner who was left screaming in pain. She didn't even bother finishing him off, before ridding the next man of his legs, allowing him to fall on the ground in a manner that would have been rather comical, had it not been for all the blood.

The remaining two seemed to have been deterred by their disfigured comrades, and quickly turned around, hoping to flee.

In the end, there apparently was no stopping this woman. Although the legion soldiers had already put some distance between them and her, she simply seemed to teleport forward, appearing right in front of the nearest man. She turned, and managed to catch him around the throat in an iron grip. Despite his struggling, she lifted him off the ground, and effortlessly cracked his neck to the side, rendering the man lifeless long before he hit the ground.

By now, the final soldier had almost reached a distant hill, which would grant him cover from this otherworldly killer. Of course, before he could make it over the top, the woman simply extended her free arm towards him, fingers stretched out. In the distance, the man seemed to stop abruptly, and rise into the air. She let him hang there for a while, before closing her fingers into a fist. It was hard to see from such distance, but the soldier seemed to be violently crushed together, into a ball. Only then did she release whatever grip she had on him.

The Courier was stoked, frozen to the spot by conflicting emotions. One part of him was utterly terrified by this display of sheer destructive power, and begged him to run for his life. Another part of him, the logical side, argued that fleeing would gain him nothing, evidenced by the broken legionnaire. Really, the only thing he could do, was hope she would spare him. And if not, that he was fast enough to shoot her before she could use whatever powers that was on him.

From lack of better words, he was fairly certain he had just witnessed magic. Come to think of it, everything about her seemed like something directly out of the old, dusty, pre-war fantasy books he had found here and there. Armor, swords... magic. Briefly, he even considered that he might have gone insane.

The woman turned around, and seemingly teleported back. She appeared almost directly in front of the Courier, and immediately raised her sword up, placing the tip under his chin. It wasn't until now he had a chance to look at her face.

The lower part up to her nose was covered by a mask, but the thing that caught his attention was her eyes. They were rather large, and shone bright green like emeralds. Quite captivating, really, making what she had just done all the more unbelievable. Blood was still dripping from the sword. An uncomfortable reminder.

For the longest while, she simply studied him, tilting her head lightly from time to time. She seemed thoughtful.

Finally, she focused back to his face, and asked:

"What realm is this? What province? Is it Elsweyr? Hammerfell, perhaps?"

He found her voice to be strange. It was beautiful and enticing, demanding absolute attention. But at the same time, it was cold. Commanding.

He was certain he hadn't heard of the places she mentioned. What did she mean, 'realm'? Giving her a good answer could be hard, but he had to try his best.

"Well, lady, you're in the Mojave wasteland. America. Eh... planet earth." He said, cautiously.

Once again, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing down.

"Earth? What is the meaning of this? I demand a fulfilling answer, peasant. Do as I bid, and you shall not be harmed." She continued, strangely solemn. As if wanting to calm him down, she lowered the sword.

This was, without a doubt, at the top of his list of strange things. Either this woman was absolutely strung out on some form of drugs, or she had come from somewhere else. And despite how little sense it made, he was partial to the latter. Perhaps she was an alien?

"Alright listen. First off, I'm no 'peasant'. I don't know what kind of drugs you're on, but that answer is about as fulfilling as it gets. Now, you mind telling me what the hell just happened? How'd you do all that, and how'd you pop out of the blue?" he asked, motioning towards the dead legionnaires.

She turned her head, briefly looking her victims over. She then turned back, letting out a snort.

"I killed five men. It was a simple combination of sword-fighting and magic." She started, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world: "You should mind your tongue. I will not be interrogated by the likes of you. Now tell me, what is your name?"

Her attitude was highly annoying. She might be a capable fighter, but that didn't mean he'd let her talk down to him like that. By now, he remembered that he was still holding his revolver.

"I'm the Courier." He replied, with a small smirk.

She rolled her eyes, taking a short step closer to him:

"You simpleminded fool, I asked for your name, not your occupation. I have no need for a courier." She stated.

He let out a sigh, quickly raising the gun towards her thigh, and firing a single round. The bullet easily tore through her light armor, earning a small scream of both surprise and pain from the woman. She quickly fell down on one knee, clutching at the small, but painful, wound in her thigh. It bled quite a bit, but he had done his best to avoid hitting both bone and main artery, and he seemed to have been successful. A crack shot as usual.

The Courier slowly stepped over in front of her, revolver trained on her head.

"That hurts, doesn't it?" he started: "Now, I have a few things to say. First off, I am not _a_ courier, I am _the_ Courier. Perhaps it is not a name, but that's what people call me 'round here. Secondly, this is a gun. It fires bullets. It's what everyone uses these days. And last, you're really gonna have to work on that attitude of yours."

He flipped the gun over in his hand, grabbing it by the barrel, and then proceeded to pistol whip her in the temple. She let out a slight gasp, and then fell limply onto the ground. The Courier bowed down, and quickly threw her over his shoulder.

A strange day, he thought to himself, as he walked off. A strange day indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

The Courier sat back on the ground, letting out a slight sigh of exhaustion as he reached into his pockets, pulling out a nearly empty pack of cigarettes. He looked it over critically; they seemed to disappear much too quickly for his liking. Regardless, he removed one, and stuffed the pack back into his pocket. He stuck it out to the side, lighting it in the campfire he had started, and closed his eyes as he inhaled the first relieving mouthful.

For just a few moments, he allowed himself to sit and relax, nothing but the sound of the fire next to him. He exhaled slowly, blowing out a ring of smoke that drifted off into the night.

Normally he wouldn't have risked a fire this late. The light attracted all sorts of bad stuff, and it was practically asking for trouble. But he had need of the light, if he was to take care of this strange woman who had defied all principles of logic, and simply popped out of the blue.

He threw a quick look down at her. It was really just a matter of waiting for her to wake up now. He'd removed the bullet from her thigh, and bandaged the wound to the best of his abilities. He wasn't too pleased about shooting her, but at the time it didn't seem like he had any other choice.

As an extra precaution, he had also taken the liberty of removing her weapons, and tying her hands behind her back. Wouldn't want her making any rash decisions when she woke up.

In the meantime, he wanted to have a look at her sword. He slid it out of the sheath, and carefully placed it in his palms. It was a very slim and elegant blade, made from some strange black metal. Silver engravings stretched from the hilt, all the way to the tip. It was surprisingly light, the Courier mused to himself, as he grasped it by the hilt, and curiously swiped it through the air. He could add the sword to his list of questions, he thought, as returned it to the sheath.

As if on que, she finally let out a slight groan, and started moving about on the ground. She rolled onto her back, and seemed to be struggling against her restraints.

"Might as well take it easy, lady. You ain't getting away just yet." He said.

She abruptly turned her head to him, frowned, and then sat up as best she could.

"I demand that you release me immediately. You cannot hope to grasp the extent of my powers." She started, despite her predicament.

"Come on, now. I just want to ask a few questions. Besides, to be frank, you're not really in a position to be making threats." He calmly replied, gently tapping the revolver in its holster, as if to underline his words.

Her eyes moved to it briefly, before focusing back at the Courier, with unwavering resolve. She did stop struggling though.

"What kind of magic is that? I have never seen anything like it." She asked. He couldn't help but chuckle lightly to himself. Seemed to him like her dogs weren't all barking.

"Ain't no magic, miss. It's pure and deadly physics, that's all." He started, pulling it from the holster. Her eyes flickered to it momentarily in what could be fear, but before he had time to make sure, she'd returned to the same stubborn expression as before.

"Now, I didn't intend for _you_ to be asking _me_ questions. See, when a stranger such as yourself suddenly pops out of thin air, I get curious. How'd you do that, and where'd you come from?" he asked. Earlier she had been the one demanding answers. The tables had really turned on her.

She stubbornly sat there in silence, making the Courier afraid he'd have to resort to more dramatic measures. Yet just as he was about to put out his cigarette, she finally answered:

"I hail from Skyrim, the northernmost province in Tamriel. I was experimenting with long-range teleportation spells. That's how I 'popped out of thin air'."

He wasn't any sort of scientist, but this sounded all sorts of strange. However much he would like to disregard her as a simple loony, there was no denying that strange things happened around her. Regardless, he had more questions to ask.

"Right. Very interesting. So, you do 'magic' often?" he asked, not quite able to hide his skepticism.

She nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes:

"You do not believe me?" she asked.

The Courier let out a slightly ridiculing laugh in response:

"Frankly, I'm not sure what to believe. I can't explain the things you did, but I sure as hell don't believe in magic either. Believe it or not, people in 'my' world can't do the things you did." He replied.

She tugged at her bindings:

"So untie me. I will prove it to you."

He shook his head lightly:

"So you can get right up and attack me? I ain't a fool."

She rolled her eyes with an annoyed sigh, and slowly struggled onto her legs, despite the obvious pain from her wounded thigh. She took a moment to get stable, and suddenly her hands burst into flames. The old, dried up rope he had used to tie her immediately caught fire, and with a light yank of her hands she was free. The Courier quickly raised the revolver to fire at her, only to find her remaining where she was, staring at him resolutely. As if being careful not to alarm him, she slowly reached down, removing the clumsy bandage he had applied to her. It hadn't had time to heal, so the blood slowly started running down her leg. Without worry, she placed her hand over the wound and held it there for a moment. A golden light shone out between her fingers, and within seconds the light ceased, and she removed her hand again.

Although he found it hard to believe, the wound was gone. As a final touch, the hole in her clothing also repaired itself, and the blood disappeared as he watched. She stood up straighter, stretching the leg a few times as if to check it, and when satisfied she crossed her arms, standing like nothing had ever happened. Like there had never been a wound in the first place. She stared at the Courier, and slowly said:

"So you see, 'Courier'. Magic is very real."

Despite proving him wrong, she did not seem all that excited, as if something was wrong. Curious as he was, he couldn't help but ask:

"Alright, you win. Apparently magic is real. So why the long face?"

She tugged on her shoulders lightly.

"It is strange." she started, thoughtfully placing a hand under her chin, and closing her eyes: "It is not coming back."

The Courier tilted his head lightly: "I'm sorry, what?"

Her eyes shot open again, and she looked up at him:

"Magicka. It is what we mages call the energy with which we can manipulate the world. Without magicka, there is no magic. It usually regenerates on its own, but now..." she explained.

The Courier rubbed his eyes lightly:

"So you can do magic... but you've run out of juice?" he asked.

She quickly shook her head, irritably:

"Do not taunt me. I still have plenty of energy. It is simply a matter of conserving it."

She stood to herself for a moment, with a rather dissatisfied look on her face. Then slowly, she mumbled:

"I must admit, you were partly right. It seems Magicka does not exist in this world. That is why I do not absorb it."

He clapped sarcastically. Despite her elevated attitude, she seemed defeated. He couldn't help but feel slightly bad for her.

"So, miss. I told you my name, but I never caught yours." He said, carefully.

She looked him over suspiciously, as if judging whether to trust him or not. Ultimately, she decided to tell him:

"I have many names. Archmage, Harbinger, Listener... but to most, I am known as the Dragonborn. You can simply call me Lyannah."

How dramatic. Then again, he himself had acquired many titles and nicknames. He didn't even know his real name, if he ever had one.

It struck him how tense the air between them was. He was standing with the revolver still pointed towards her, and her eyes were flickering between him, and her weapons behind him. In an attempt at lightening the mood a little, he lowered the gun, and jokingly remarked:

"Don't tell me you can turn into a dragon too."

It seemed the humor was lost on her, though, as she simply replied with an annoyed shake of the head. Regardless, her posture changed from combat ready, to a somewhat more relaxed stance.

The Courier reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out a deformed lump of metal that had been a bullet. The very same bullet he had removed from her thigh earlier in the evening. He held it out to her, with a light nod of the head.

"You should have this. It's good luck." He stated.

She stepped closer, and slowly accepted it from him, with a skeptical look. She probably didn't even know what it was.

"It's a bullet. The one I shot you with. First time you get shot, you keep the bullet. Probably just wasteland superstition, but it can't hurt." He explained.

She held it in her fingers, inspecting it carefully. She then finally nodded, sliding it into a pouch on her belt. She tilted her head, looking the Courier over.

"Do you have one?" she asked.

He reached around his neck, pulling out a chain from which a pistol bullet was dangling.

"Where were you hit?" she continued.

He placed the chain back around his neck, and then held a finger to his head.

She quickly raised an eyebrow at him, asking:

"The head?"

He nodded courtly:

"Execution. Or so they thought. I was found, and saved by a doctor. Don't remember anything from before, though. All anyone knows is that I was a courier. So there you have it. That's how I got the name."

She stared at him strangely, then let out a small chuckle of amusement. The Courier failed to see the hilarity, and quickly remarked:

"Not something I find particularly funny, lady."

She shook her head, and quickly silenced herself, before explaining:

"I do not find it funny. It is just rather coincidental. I too was almost executed. I was on the block, and would have been rid of my head, had it not been for a dra-" she cut off mid sentence, and only continued after seemingly reconsidering her words: "... an interruption."

He frowned at her dubiously:

"What was that?"

She let out a sigh:

"Dragon. Even in my world, people didn't believe it, so why would you? You barely believe in magic."

True. He could understand her reluctance.

"It's shocking, is all. I've never seen anything like it, but I also don't know how else to explain the things you can do. Try to see it from my perspective." He said.

She nodded lightly, and they stood in silence for a moment. Lyannah went to sit down at the other side of the fire. Feeling that they had reached a much friendlier level, he decided there was no use for the revolver, and holstered it.

"So... what'd you do after getting away?" he asked.

She considered the answer to herself for a moment, before answering, as she looked into the flames:

"I journeyed into the world, knowing practically nothing about anything. I completed tasks for those who needed help, and slowly I got stronger. It's as if my life only really started that day. Ask me what I did before, and I wouldn't know what to say."

The Courier nodded. Strange. It was practically the same as what he had done.

"It was the same for me, miss. It seems our stories are similar."

She looked up, with a light frown:

"Is that so?" she started, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully: "Interesting."

"Yeah... I guess it is." He said. He inspected her across the fire. She maintained an aura of confidence, but despite her best attempts, he still noticed the little signs of insecurity. This was a foreign world to her, and she didn't know what to expect. She constantly sat looking around, gazing out into the darkness. Occasionally, her eyes flickered to the sword belt, which was still on the ground behind the Courier. He understood her perfectly. He wouldn't feel safe without his gun either. So, to hell with it, he thought. Something about her told him she could be trusted.

He let out a sigh, and quickly reached down behind himself, grabbing the blades.

"Hey, catch." He said, as he lobbed it to her. She caught it elegantly, and immediately stood up to fasten it around her waist. As if to make sure he hadn't damaged them, she first drew the sword, inspecting it carefully, before doing the same with the dagger. When she was satisfied, she sat down again, immediately seeming to relax more. She nodded courteously, her way of silently thanking him.

"So what's your plan, miss? What are you going to do?" he asked her.

She shrugged quickly, as if she hadn't put any thought into it:

"I should probably be thinking about how to get home." She finally answered, rather vaguely.

"Probably should. But probably not today. I'd suggest you catch some sleep. I don't know how that works with your magic and all, but after getting shot it's usually best to relax. Besides, you look weary." He suggested.

"I admit, I am rather tired..." she said, but seemed reluctant to lie down.

"Don't worry miss. I'll be getting some shut-eye too, but I'm a light sleeper. Ain't nothing gonna sneak up on you." He stated, reassuringly.

She nodded again. Her universal reply, it would seem. She scooted closer to the fire, and eased down onto her back.

He couldn't help but note how pretty her eyes were, as the flickering light shone in them. She was a beautiful woman all in all. Sadly, there was no room for women in his line of work. Too much time apart. Too dangerous.

He sat watching her well after she had drifted into sleep, and the fire had burned down to embers. Finally, he decided to follow her example, laying down on his back, hand on his revolver.

It was typical, really. Just when he thought he'd seen everything the wasteland had to offer, something like this happened. Something like her.

He sighed to himself, slowly closing his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Minding his own thoughts, the Courier slowly made his way through the wastes. Every now and then, he would throw a quick look over his shoulder, as if to make sure she was still following him. To make sure she hadn't fallen into a sinkhole, or strayed off to stare at something that, to him, seemed normal. Of course, everything here was new to her.

Lyannah was her name, he thought, as he once again looked back. She was still there, constantly scanning around, taking in the sights. It was almost like she had never seen a desert.

Just a few hours ago, it hadn't been his plan that she should accompany him. In a way, he had been eager to get away from her, because this sort of situation occurred to him much more than he liked. So he had woken up next to the burned out campfire, and already then considered leaving, while she was still asleep. It would certainly make his life easier, but he felt as if he should at the very least say goodbye, and wish her good luck.

So he waited, and before long she too got up from the ground. They said their good mornings, and she seemed confused, as if she hadn't fully realized what had happened before sleeping on it. With that in mind, it was with a feeling of guilt he approached her, explaining that he really had to get going. She didn't protest, but that didn't make walking off any easier. He had stopped just out of the camp, looking back at her. She just sat there, looking around uneasily. Utterly lost. He found himself feeling bad for her. Within a day she would either be dead, or have stumbled her way to a town. She knew how to fight, sure, but that was all. She had no food, no water, and she couldn't possibly know what to look out for, when traveling the Mojave.

He had sighed to himself, and gone back. He'd extended his hand to her, and asked if she would like to come with him. He'd show her how things worked around here. And with small appreciative nod, she had accepted.

Just like that, he had gotten himself a companion.

As if she knew he was thinking about her, he could hear the sound of her footsteps as she sped up, and walked up next to him. For a while she seemed to look him over. Then, she cleared her throat, and finally mumbled:

"Thank you."

It was slightly amusing. The way she said it, sounded like she'd had to muster up all her will. Rather than commenting it, he simply directed a court nod towards her, and left it at that.

"Might I ask where we are going?" she asked.

He nodded quickly: "We're going to Vegas."

"Vegas? That is a city, I presume?" she asked.

"Sure is. The city of light, they call it. Don't know about the cities where you come from, but Vegas has everything you could ask for."

"I see. And what will we be doing there?" she continued.

"Well, there's a few people I gotta talk to. Then I suppose we gotta get you up to speed on how things work here." He finished.

She nodded: "Yes, that does seem like a reasonable course of action."

After several hours of trekking across the wastes, they were finally approaching the city, with several of the old crumbling structures coming into view. Towering over all of them, was the Lucky 38.

The Courier looked over his shoulder, only to find Lyannah frozen on the spot, staring at the great tower in the distance with her mouth dropped open slightly. It hadn't occurred to him that she perhaps hadn't encountered structures such as this before. He shook his head lightly, and walked back to her side.

"It's called the Lucky 38." He said.

"By the gods... I've never seen anything like it." she mumbled, before turning to the Courier: "Why is it called that? What does it mean?"

He shrugged lightly: "Heck if I know. Guy who owned it is dead." For now, he left out the fact that he himself had pulled the plug on Mr. House.

As they came closer, the damage caused long ago by the great war became apparent. They were making their way under one of the raised highways, when Lyannah stepped up to one of the pillars keeping it suspended. She inspected the cracked concrete, lightly running her hand over it.

"Is everything like this?" she asked.

The Courier nodded to himself, mumbling:

"Yeah. Everything."

She turned her head to him, inquisitively:

"What happened to this world?"

He sighed, stepping closer to her:

"War. A few hundred years ago, tensions between the worlds greatest nations reached the boiling point. Everyone started dropping bombs, and within an hour, the world was ruined. Humanity almost ceased to exist. This is all that's left." He explained, fanning his arms out towards the desert.

"You destroyed your world, and broke your own people... for what?" she continued.

Tugging on his shoulders, he turned away:

"I don't know. No one knows. We know it happened, but it's uncertain who started. Now, we make do. I just wish I could've seen it before."

He felt a hand being placed gently on his shoulder, and turned around to face her. To his surprise, she was looking rather sad.

"Can I show you something?" she asked, and he nodded.

She quickly removed the glove from one of her hands, and gently placed her hand against his forehead. As their skin touched, a burst of white light shot out, blinding the Courier.

His vision warped around. Rather than standing in the Mojave desert, he saw himself standing atop a mountain, staring out over the edge of a rocky plateau. The clouds were beneath him, and through them he saw snowy forests and plains stretching out in all directions. Rivers cut through the rolling hills, and in the distance he heard a bellowing roar ringing out over the landscape.

The vision was brief, but incredibly vivid. He felt like he had been there himself, and he could still feel the chilly air on his skin as it faded away. He stumbled backwards, rubbing his eyes.

"God damn, what the hell was that?" he exclaimed, blinking rapidly.

"A memory." She said.

"Of what? What was that place?" he continued.

She averted her eyes, slowly slipping the glove back on.

"Home." She finally said, meekly.

He stared at her for a moment. Although it had only lasted a few seconds, the image was imprinted in his mind. Had his own world looked like that once?

"I've never seen anything like it! It was-"

"Beautiful." She said, cutting him off with a knowing nod.

Indeed it was, he thought to himself. He didn't say it, but he appreciated the vision very much. He only wondered why she would spend some of her precious magic, on showing him her homeland. It was very generous, and generosity rarely came without consequence in the wasteland.

Regardless, he shrugged it off, turning away from her briskly.

"Come, we ought to move on." He said, as he resumed their approach to the city. No doubt she had expected some degree of gratitude. He could feel her stare in his back, but as he kept walking she ultimately followed along.

Finally, they entered the ruined outskirts of Vegas, passing through the rows of burned out husks that had once been houses and schools and grocery stores. The Courier kept a watchful eye on the broken windows. Fiends had been known to set up ambushes here, murdering and robbing caravan and lone traveler alike, for the valuables they had hoped to use in the city. Lyannah too watched the ruins, yet for what seemed like entirely different reasons.

"People used to live here, didn't they?" she asked quietly. For a relentless killer, she was strangely upset by the prospect of death.

The Courier simply nodded, and said: "Yup." He'd gotten used to the idea, unlike her.

Suddenly, he thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eyes. He instinctively reached his hand out, stopping Lyannah where she was. She stared at him questioningly, and for a while it seemed as if nothing would happen. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Then a bullet crackled over their heads, only afterwards followed by the sound of gunfire. The Courier quickly pulled Lyannah with him, and dove for cover straight through the nearest storefront window. He felt the cuts from the broken glass on his bald head, but paid it no mind.

The gunfire hadn't ceased just because they were out of sight, and the bullets hammered against the other side of their cover. For now, it held. He looked up to check on Lyannah, finding her slightly disgruntled, but otherwise in mint condition. She had pulled her sword, and he almost couldn't keep himself from laughing.

The gunfire had come from the building straight across the road. He'd hoped they could have reached the city without accident, because the same problem still stood; he was critically low on ammo. Five bullets, exactly. There was no way to tell how many opponents they were facing, so he would have to rely on his aim to get them out of this. It hadn't let him down before.

He looked down himself as he reached for his revolver, fumbling with the holster. At the same time, the incoming fire ceased, and he heard violent curses from the other side of the road. It would seem someone was jammed.

"Now look, I want you to stay put. We're gonna let them use up their ammo, and I'll take them down slowly. You just remain calm." He said.

He looked up at her, only to find that she was gone. Peeking out over his cover, he saw her sprinting across the road, and once on the other side, climbing up the building, and into an upstairs window.

There was a brief moment of silence. Then, the sound of violent struggle burst out from the building, followed by screams of varying degrees of pain and horror.

Cursing to himself, the Courier leap out onto the street, and crossed to the building, revolver finally in hand. Rather abruptly, the noises from inside had stopped. He quickly passed through the bottom floor, finding it clear of combatants and Lyannah alike.

Finally, he made his way up the stairs, ready for anything. The first thing meeting his eyes, was a splatter of fresh blood, reaching across the entire wall. As he stepped fully into the room, he was met by a rather grotesque sight.

On the floor, were three very dead fiends, missing various limbs. Standing at the windows, from where he assumed they had been shooting, was Lyannah. In front of her, stood a single fiend she had left alive. The man was shaking rather violently, and let out a whimper as he fell onto his knees. Strangely, and slightly worryingly, Lyannah was smiling. Just like last time, blood was dripping from her sword. Carelessly, she whipped it up one final time, the edge swiftly striking across the surrendered man's throat. His hands flew up to cover the wound, yet it was to no avail as the life pumped out of him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled, angrily stepping up to her. She slowly turned her head to him, seemingly not understanding the question.

"I killed them. Isn't that obvious?" she said, gesturing towards the pool of blood and dismembered limbs around them.

"Yes, very obvious. But you can't just charge in like that! Did that bullet not teach you anything about guns?" he continued, pointing at her thigh: "And what about him? You don't just execute an unarmed man!" he finished, with an angry nod towards the last of her victims.

She frowned lightly, shaking her head: "He was a risk. What would stop him from picking up a weapon and attacking us from behind?" she retorted, holstering the sword.

"That's not the point! This was reckless. You could have gotten us both killed by charging in like that. Do not do anything like this again!" he commanded.

Her eyes narrowed, and before he could manage any kind of defense, she had drawn her dagger and placed it at his throat, standing mere inches from him. Barely contained rage shone from her eyes.

"Do not fool yourself into believing you have any sort of authority over me. I am grateful that you didn't simply kill me yesterday, and I gladly accept your company so that I may learn about this land... but you do not command me. I will do as I please." She whispered. Their eyes locked in a silent battle, and finally she stepped back, returning the blade to its sheath.

"Are we clear?" she simply asked.

He pushed past her, and made his way outside. It occurred to him, that this woman was an utter contrast to himself. She was mercilessly efficient, and absolutely deadly. A perfect companion, if she could learn to contain it.

He stopped out onto the street, and waited for her to come out. She stepped over in front of him, with a defiant look in her face.

"You're a twisted fuck. But yes, we're clear." He said.

She took a moment to contemplate his words, but then finally nodded in satisfaction:

"Good. Now let's go."

She didn't need to say that twice.

They put the rest of the road behind them in less than an hour, and finally arrived at the gates of New Vegas. As they stepped through, he turned around to face her, with a slight smile on his face:

"Welcome to Vegas!"


	4. Chapter 4

Making their way through the busy streets of Freeside, it was quite obvious to the Courier, that the cities from where Lyannah came were nothing like this. Her head was constantly spinning around, as she made her best efforts to take in every single little detail. She was almost like a child, her attention constantly being caught up on glowing neon lights and colorful signs. Still, there were a lot of people all around her, and she seemed to be waging an inner war with her self; one part wanted to sternly ignore the sights, constantly vigilant. Another part of her wanted to go press her face up against the store fronts. It was highly amusing. In the end, she seemed to reach a compromise, by doing her best to see all the sights, while keeping her hand on the sword, ready for battle. Still, it was occasionally necessary for her to run in order to keep up, since the Courier walked on unfazed. He'd been there many times before.

There were a few things they had to get done while they were here. Their first stop, was at the Old Mormon Fort. He'd made it a quest of his to bring some degree of order and safety back to Freeside, and part of that was making sure there was access to health-care, for all the inhabitants. The Followers of the Apocalypse was the perfect group for helping him with this, and as such, he had a habit of bringing back all the medical supplies he could find. In return, they would get him fixed up cheaply, in case he got wounded. That was also part of the reason they were going there. He still needed to get the cuts on his head looked at.

Jumping through that window earlier in the day had been a bad idea, but in the heat of the moment it had seemed like his only choice. He'd like to believe that it had saved them from some more serious injuries, and he'd anticipated a much longer fight. But then Lyannah had decided to charge.

He let out a slight sigh to himself as his thoughts drifted back to the fight. Despite her outburst when he had tried to reason with her, he still needed to have a serious discussion with her, about her tactics. He could only hope she would have a slightly calmer reaction. She had to fight differently, or she'd be a goner before long. One way he could help her with that, was making sure she got a gun, and learned how to use it. Mick and Ralph was sure to have something she could use, so in his head he added their shop to the list of places they had to go.

Finally, the old walls of the Fort was coming into view. Some claimed it was the oldest building in all of the Mojave. It had been old already before the war, yet it still stood defiantly. Few things impressed the Courier, but he had to admit, this was one of them.

They made their way through the ancient gates, and stepped into the busy chaos of the Followers headquarter. With all the turmoil and drug addicts in Freeside, there was a constant flow of patients streaming to and from the Fort, and the doctors were always busy. The Courier made his way to the center of the courtyard, in order to get a good look around. He was looking for Julie Farkas, his usual contact. There were quite a lot of people, but it shouldn't take long to find her. She stood out quite a bit, with her spiky mohawk. Odd choice of haircut for a woman like her, but that was just his opinion.

True enough, after a quick scan of the area, he saw her standing at one of the tents and made his way over. She was standing off to the side, discussing something with one of the other Followers. She quickly dismissed him when she saw the Courier approaching, and welcomed him with a small smile:

"Courier. Good to see you again." She said. Her eyes drifted to the side, coming to a rest on Lyannah. She stared back, and for a moment the two women stood glaring at each other; Julie at Lyannah's clothing and weapons, and Lyannah at Julie's strange hair. While Lyannah kept staring, Julie quickly redirected her attention back to the Courier:

"Right.. so how can we be of service to you?" she continued.

He quickly reached into his bag, and pulled out the pack of assorted medicines he had put aside, and held it out for her. Her face lighted up in a bright smile as she accepted it:

"Oh, thank you so much!" she exclaimed.

He shrugged lightly: "You're welcome. I know it ain't much, compared to what you need."

She quickly shook her head: "Don't say that. Everything helps, and you've done more than most." Her eyes drifted to the cuts on his head, and she smirked lightly: "Want me to have a look at that?"

He simply nodded, and she led him into the tent, and sat him down on a chair. Lyannah followed after, looming behind Julie.

"So what did you do this time?" the Follower asked, as she examined his injuries.

"Well... jumped through a window. Had to improvise some cover." He explained.

She shook her head at him: "One day you're going to get seriously hurt... wait here. I have to get something to clean this." She said, turning around and brushing past Lyannah on her way out.

Lyannah scowled at him disapprovingly:

"You could have just asked me to take care of it, rather than dealing with that bickering wench..." she mumbled, crossing her arms. She almost sounded jealous.

He sat up in the chair, with a frown:

"Wench? Julie is a good woman. She helps people, rather than murdering them. Don't talk about her like that. Besides, didn't you need to conserve your fancy magic?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes:

"Conserve, yes. Healing injuries would be a reasonable expense. You didn't worry so much when I showed you that memory earlier." She said.

She was right. Of course it had occurred to him that she could probably heal the cuts in an instant, but he still wasn't all too thrilled about this whole magic thing. As long as he could avoid it, he would.

"That's irrelevant. Just behave, would you? No need to be so damn gloomy." He said, making it obvious that he wasn't interested in discussing it any further.

She snorted, but otherwise remained silent. That was good, because a few seconds later Julie returned, with a bottle and a swab, for cleaning the cuts.

"Alright, so there isn't much more to do than clean them and hope they don't get infected. You're just lucky you didn't get any in the eyes." She said, as she wetted the swab and proceeded to swipe it gently over the broken skin. He felt it burn in the wound, which he took as a good sign. That usually meant it was working. After a few minutes she seemed satisfied, and took a step back:

"There we go. Now be careful. One day you might get a wound we can't fix." She said.

He stood up, giving her a short nod:

"Thanks Julie. Until next time." He said, stepping out of the tent.

Outside, he stopped for moment, looking out over the masses of people making their way around. It seemed chaotic at first, but upon closer inspection everyone knew where to go. Everyone had a purpose.

"Why are there so many patients? Is there a war going on?" Lyannah asked from his side.

He shook his head quickly:

"There is a war, but not here. There's just a lot of trouble in the neighborhood, and a lot of people get hurt every day." He explained.

She nodded, and turned towards him:

"I see. So what about this war? Who's fighting, about what?"

He let out a sigh, and fished a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it:

"The New California Republic is fighting Caesars Legion for control of the Hoover dam." He started, letting out a puff of smoke:

"The guys you killed when we first met, were from the Legion. They were sent out to kill me, actually." He explained.

"Interesting. There was a war in my world, too. Stormcloak rebels versus the Imperial Legion. I won the war for the Legion, and secured peace in my homeland." She said.

A few people were throwing glares at them, hearing her mentioning the legion. They had no idea she was talking about a different one, so he quickly pulled her away from the crowd, and out to the wall. She frowned lightly, but didn't resist.

Once away, he turned to her:

"Alright, you gotta be a little careful. The Legion in this world, isn't exactly well liked. They crucify and torture people, and make slaves of those who will not join them. I sure don't hope your Legion is like that, or we won't see toe-to-toe about a lot of things."

She shook her head:

"No. My Legion is not like that."

"Good. We'll be fighting the Legion a lot." He finished.

She shrugged at that:

"I do not care. I have no affiliation with anyone here. I'll just as quick kill one, as the other."

Though he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, at least he had the assurance that she wouldn't sympathize with the Legion.

"Right.. we ought to get moving. Come on." He said, and lead the way out of the Fort.

Next stop was getting himself resupplied with ammunition, and hopefully finding a suitable gun for her.

Walking down the street, Lyannah stepped up next to the Courier:

"So, this dam... why is it important enough to wage a war over?" she asked.

He sighed lightly:

"You're a curious one, aren't you? It produces large amounts of electricity. It's what keeps this city going."

She frowned questioningly:

"Electricity?"

He stared at her for a moment, before it occurred to him that she probably had no idea what it was.

"You know, electrical energy. It's what keeps these lights going." He said, pointing to one of the many lamps.

"Ah... I see. I was wondering how that was working." She said, with a small smile of satisfaction.

"It's a bit more complicated, but that's how we use it. We can get you a physics book if you want to read up on it." He said, jokingly.

The joke seemed to pass right by her, as she nodded eagerly:

"Yes, that would be nice."

Surprised, he raised an eyebrow:

"Uh.. alright. I'll keep an eye out for that, then." He said. Despite her behavior, she seemed to be very serious about understanding his world. For that, he was grateful.

As they approached Mick & Ralph's, his preferred vendor of weaponry, he decided with himself that she should not come inside. If he was to do any bartering, it wouldn't help having her behind him, with that stare. Intimidating demeanor was useful on occasion, but the Courier knew Mick, who sold all the guns. It would only make him stubborn.

He stopped just before the door leading inside, and turned to Lyannah:

"Listen, it's best if you just wait out here." He said.

She frowned, as he had expected, crossing her arms:

"And why is that?"

"Just.. trust me. These guys don't like new people." He said, doing his best to be convincing.

She let out a snort, and stepped up with her back against the wall:

"Fine." She said, though the way she scowled at him said otherwise.

"I'll be quick." He assured, and made his way inside.

The store was mostly empty, aside from a few locals that were picking through the random junk throughout the room. The store was named for its owners, the brothers Mick and Ralph. While Ralph dealt mostly in junk, Mick had a decent selection of guns and ammo. That's what the Courier was there for, so he headed straight over, to talk to the man.

"Hey Mick." He started, getting his attention.

"Ah, didn't see you come in. What can I get you?" he replied, leaning forward on the counter.

"Running low on ammo. Need all the 44. and .308 you have. I'm also looking to buy a good gun for a first-timer. Any ideas?" he said.

Mick thoughtfully tapped his fingers on the desk. He speculated to himself for a while, and then bowed down, reaching under the counter:

"Well, the good old 9mm pistol probably ain't a bad start. Let me just have look here..." he said, rummaging around. After a good while, he finally stood up with a bunch of items in his arms. First off was the ammo for the Couriers own guns. Then came a slightly worn pistol, the ammo for it, and a thigh holster.

"This is about as good as it gets... since you're buying a bunch of stuff, I'm throwing that holster in for free. Anyways, that'll be 175 caps."

A good price, the Courier thought to himself, as he reached into his bag, and counted out the caps. He stacked them on the desk, and packed the items away. He'd give her the gun later.

Just then, something slammed up against the window of the shop. The Courier quickly spun around, hand flying to his gun as he looked outside. He couldn't see much through the dust covered glass, but it was obvious that something was going on. Cursing to himself, he rushed to the door, and out onto the street.

For some reason, he wasn't surprised to see Lyannah in a fight once again. He'd been late though. Two men were already on the ground, seemingly knocked out. She was grasping a third by the collar, delivering several punches to his face.

The Courier quickly went over behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. He had meant to pull her back, if it hadn't been for the elbow she jammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. She proceeded to twirl around, using some strange technique to force him on the ground, and onto his back. Only then, with her knee planted on his chest, did she seem to realize that it was him, and not a fourth assailant. She quickly stood up, and took a step back. She threw a quick look at the man she had been beating before the Courier had interrupted her, and seemed satisfied with him being on the ground, groaning in pain.

The Courier quickly got back up on his legs, more than a little annoyed by her:

"You have got to be kidding! I go away for five minutes, and you manage to get into a fight! What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled.

She crossed her arms, seemingly surprised by his reaction:

"It wasn't my fault!" she exclaimed.

He let out a frustrated chuckle:

"Oh? Did they look at you the wrong way?" he continued.

She shook her head:

"No! I was standing where you left me, when they approached me. They made unsavory remarks about my appearance, and asked if I would like to 'have some fun'. I asked them to leave, but they refused, and tried to grab me. So, I fought them. I didn't even kill anyone!" she said, almost desperately trying to make him understand.

He stood for a moment, just staring at the scene. She seemed rather sincere, and it wasn't uncommon for the local junkies to do such things. Women were often assaulted, robbed or even raped around here. Especially pretty ones, like her.

He sighed, and patted her on the shoulder lightly:

"Alright, I believe you. Thanks for not killing everyone. Now, let's get out of here."

She nodded with a small smile, and followed close behind him as he lead her away from the store, and down the street. By now, the day was coming to an end, so he figured it would be best if they retreated to the Lucky 38 for the night. In a way, he was looking forward to her reaction. She had seemed quite impressed by it from a distance.

They made their way through the streets of Freeside, which was mostly desolate by now. It wasn't safe to be out there at night, but most thugs knew who the Courier was, and wouldn't risk attacking him, or the people with him.

Before long they reached the gates to the Strip, and passed between the guarding securitrons. Lyannah threw some nervous glances at them, making sure to stay close to the Courier:

"What kind of automatons are those?" she mumbled.

He frowned lightly:

"Automatons? They're securitrons. Don't worry, they won't do anything. I practically own them."

"Hm.. if you say so.." she said, not quite seeming convinced.

Despite her disbelief, they were let through the gates unharmed, and into the strip.

They continued the short distance that was left, and when the Courier stepped up the stairs to the Lucky 38 entrance, Lyannah threw her head backwards, gazing up towards the top of the tower.

"This is our destination?" she asked, seemingly awestruck. It was almost childish.

"Indeed it is. Would you like to stare at it some more, or should we go inside?" he asked.

She turned her head down again, blinking a few times, and then proceeded forward.

They made their way through the lobby, and into the elevator which was already there, waiting for them.

"Ladies first." He said smugly, as he stepped aside for her. She gladly got inside, and he followed behind her, pressing the button for the penthouse. He normally just used the presidential suite, but he thought she might like the view.

She let out a slight gasp as the metal cage set into motion, rocketing upwards. After a short while the elevator finally came to a halt, and the doors shot open, revealing the penthouse suite. Lyannah didn't seem to care much for the luxurious furnishing, but dashed down the stairs and straight to the large panorama windows.

The Courier casually followed behind, and sat down in a comfortable recliner.

"Best view in town." He noted.

Her saw her nodding, without facing away from the view. And for a while, she just stood there, staring out.

"I can't believe your people built this... it's incredible. The only place in my world with a view like this, is what we call the Throat of the world.. the mountain, from the vision I showed you." She started, before pausing for a moment. When she continued, her excitement had somewhat dampened: "I can see everything from up here... but there isn't much to see, other than ruins. With their amazing capabilities, I can't understand why your ancestors would doom themselves in such a way... it is unfathomable."

He let out an affirming grunt, sitting back.

"Yeah. Ain't much use thinking too hard about it... it'll just hold you down. I've learned that by now." He said, bitterly. She turned her head halfway towards him, and slowly nodded. She stood staring out of the window, pondering to herself for a while more, before stepping over to the couch and sitting down.

The Courier raised up his Pipboy, quickly looking through his journal. He had several overhanging tasks, so it was all about selecting one, and getting to it.

Lyannah stared at the whirring computer on his arm, and it was obvious she was trying to resist her temptation to ask about it. In the end, she cleared her throat to get his attention:

"That thing.. does it also run on 'electricity'?"

He nodded:

"Sure does. It's very handy."

"Well, what is it? What does it do?" she asked.

He shrugged:

"It's a Pipboy, and it does a bunch of things. It contains maps of the area, a compass, saved notes, keeps track of my assignments, monitors radiation and much more... it gives me a bit of an edge."

The look of confusion on her face told him that she didn't quite understand how such a small thing could do all that, so he got up from where he was, and instead went to sit next to her. He held the Pipboy up for her to see, and scrolled through the different menus.

"Like this, see? It's real smart." He said.

She nodded, and curiously poked the thing, as if it might explode. He let her inspect it for a while more, then lowered his arm, remembering that they had things to discuss, regarding her way of handling combat.

"Okay listen, we need to talk." He said.

She raised an eyebrow lightly:

"About what?"

"About your way of fighting."

She rolled her eyes, and let out a sigh.

He turned on the couch, to face her better:

"Don't give me that. I remember what you said, so just take this as advice. Everyone has guns. A single bullet in the right place, and you're dead. Just like that. Now I'm telling you this, because I'd regret to see you killed. You want to go home some day, don't you?"

She slowly nodded in reply.

"Good. Then don't charge in, unless there is absolutely no other option." He finished.

"That's easy for you to say, but if I cannot use my sword, I have no way to fight. I cannot sit idly by in every battle." She argued, once again crossing her arms.

"I know. That's why I got you this." He said, pulling the pistol he bought for her out of his bag.

She looked down at it, and slowly reached out to take it. He yanked it away, holding it out at an arms length:

"Easy now. You're gonna need a few basics before you can have it. So, this is a 9mm pistol. 9mm is the size of the bullet. It's the only kind of bullet it will fire." He started, and ejected the magazine: "This is the magazine. You load the bullets into this." He said, and demonstrated loading bullets into the magazine. He jammed it back into the gun, and pulled the slide: "Now it is loaded. All you have to do is remove the safety..." he continued, flipping the safety off: "... and you're ready to fire. Here you go. But please don't actually shoot in here." He finished, handing the gun over.

She grasped it securely, and inspected it. She pulled the slide, ejecting the chambered bullet, and seemingly tried to understand the mechanism before moving on to removing the magazine. With it in hand, she reloaded the loose bullet, before putting the magazine back in. She played with the safety, and finally seemed satisfied:

"Okay, I see how it works. Quite ingenious..." she mumbled.

He nodded, and removed the extra magazines, and the holster, from his bag.

"Here. Extra ammo. The holster goes on your thigh, and you might as well get comfortable with it."

She stood up, and held the holster questioningly in her hand:

"How should I wear this?" she asked.

He stared at her for a moment, before deciding that he might as well help her put it on. He knelt down in front of her, and gently strapped it on where he guessed she would easily be able to reach her weapon. She was busy fiddling with the gun, so while down there, he caught himself gazing over the features of her body. He was only a man, after all, but quickly collected himself, and finished with the holster, standing up.

"There we go. Try it out." He said.

She slid the pistol into the holster, and tried drawing it a few times. Once satisfied, she left it in, and gave the Courier an appreciative nod.

"Thank you." She said.

He just shrugged it off:

"Take it as an investment in your health. We'll get you some target practice tomorrow. For now, we should get some rest. The beds are a few stories down." He said, and started making his way for the elevator. Only when he had reached it, did he realize that she wasn't following.

"If you do not mind, I would like to spend the night up here." She asked, halfway facing the windows.

He nodded slowly:

"Alright, sure. I'll come for you when it's time to go, then." He said.

She smiled at him, and then turned towards the windows. By now, the moon was shining rather brightly, throwing shadows along the penthouse floor.

He stepped into the elevator, and pressed the button for his desired destination. She was truly a strange woman, but in a good way.

And as the elevator doors slid shut, the image of her silhouette against the night sky remained on his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

The Couriers eyes flew open. Letting out a tired grunt, he raised his arm, to look at the Pipboy. Most of all he wanted to close his eyes and sleep on, but it was time to get up. There was always work to do, and the world didn't wait for him.

He slung his legs out over the side of the bed, and stumbled out into the bathroom. Splashing a handful of water in his face, he caught his own eyes in the mirror. He realized how much had happened to his appearance over the last long period of time, since he had woken up in the small town of Goodsprings. Though he hardly remembered anything from before, he did remember how he had looked. Young and energetic, and largely unknowing of how cruel the world could be. Now, the harsh wasteland had taken its toll on him, and hardened the features of his face. The sole thing that had remained unchanged, was his clear blue eyes, staring out at him coldly.

He shook his head, and stepped away from the mirror. Nothing good would come from getting lost in his own thoughts, and so he went back out into the large bedroom, and equipped himself with his usual set of gear. Worn as it may be, it had served him well.

Slinging the hunting rifle over his shoulder, he stepped out into the hallway, and over into the elevator. It was time to go get his newly acquired companion, so they could be on their way.

Stepping into the oval penthouse, he wasn't exactly sure what to make of what he found.

Rather than the orderly state in which it had been the previous night, there were now books scattered across the room, on the floors and tables. Apparently, Lyannah had disregarded his recommendation of sleep, and instead gone to work on Mr. House's rather significant collection of literature. Bowing down to pick up a book, he realized that she had quickly disregarded all novels, poems and generally works of fiction. Instead, she had focused on scientific books, firearms handling, history and seemingly anything else to help her gain an understanding of this world.

Stepping through the rooms, the trail of books continued leading him on his way, until he finally found her fast asleep on a sofa. To his surprise, she had removed her armor, and was lying only dressed in her rather primitive underwear. Her equipment was spread out on a table, and she seemed to have made some modifications to it.

He couldn't help but let his eyes drift over the form of her body, and they were quickly caught by some strange symbols that ran the full length of her spine, ending at her neck. He didn't recognize the symbols, but they seemed to be runes of some kind. It probably wouldn't do to ask her, though. Around her neck, a rhombus shaped pendant was hanging from a silver chain, with a black stone set in the middle. It might have been his eyes fooling him, but he could have sworn the pendant had emitted a faint glow.

Moving on, it struck him how marked her skin was. All across her body, were scars of varying sizes and shapes. Judging by their color, some were new, and some were old. Newest of all, was a small one on her thigh. The one he had given her.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, but the first step was waking her up. He silently stepped over in front of the sofa. He reached down, and gently rustled her shoulder. As she remained utterly unresponsive, he shook her with a firm grip, and mumbled her name.

She let out a sudden gasp, and in a flurry of movement she rolled over, grasping him by the collar. Seemingly out of the blue, her dagger had appeared in her hand, and she was holding it to his throat.

Her eyes locked with his, and for a while she didn't quite seem to understand what was happening.

"Uh... good morning?" he asked, slowly.

She blinked, and as she let him go, dropping the dagger, the look of confusion quickly morphed into her usual frown:

"Do not sneak up on me like that. It'll cost you your life." She scolded.

He rolled his eyes, taking a cautionary step back:

"I didn't need to sneak. You were out cold." He replied.

She let out a displeased grunt, and finally seemed to notice her barely dressed condition. She quickly stood up, and though he wasn't sure, he thought he might have seen a hint of embarrassment in her face:

"Keep your eyes to yourself, and let me get dressed." She mumbled, reaching for her clothes.

He turned around, and stepped out of the room, mumbling 'Yes Ma'am..' to himself.

While waiting, he figured he might as well start tidying up after her. It was almost impressive how huge a mess she had managed to create in one night. One after another, he gathered up the books that had been carelessly left throughout the room, and rearranged them in the bookcases.

In the middle of his cleaning, her voice startled him from behind:

"Your ancestors conveyed incredible amounts of knowledge with their books. Much more so than in my world. We had academic books, and tomes of knowledge about magic, but nothing quite as condensed and advanced as this."

The Courier turned on the spot, to face Lyannah who had finally emerged from the other room, now fully dressed. She had somehow managed to create a harness, so that the sword was now on her back. He could see how it was practical, giving her easier access to the new firearm. She had obviously realized the need for modifications quickly. Now it was just a question of whether or not she could modify her style of fighting as well.

"Yes. We have books that cover pretty much anything you could want to know. Did you stay up all night reading?" he asked.

She nodded promptly:

"Yes. I need to understand this world, if I am to survive in it."

He let out a sigh, nodding:

"Sure. I'm glad you're making an effort and all, but it won't make much of a difference if you're all burned out. Anyways, we ought to be on our way." He said, turning, and making his way towards the elevator. He knew she'd be trailing close behind, glaring at his back. She obviously resented being told what to do, but a discussion was not his idea of a good start to the day. Besides, it was a waste of time.

They made their way into the elevator, and sent it on its way to the bottom floor. The Courier threw a sideways glance at Lyannah, standing next to him. As anticipated, she had already applied her grumpy expression. She wasn't exactly light hearted. Not at all, in fact. She hadn't told him much yet, but something had to have happened in her home world. Perhaps it was the war she had talked about. On the other hand, killing didn't seem to burden her much. It was the only time she had seemed almost happy, which was worrying in itself.

"So... tell me more about you." He finally said.

She raised an eyebrow, turning her head towards him:

"What do you wish to know?" she asked.

He shrugged. If he was to be honest, he didn't really know:

"Anything. We're gonna need something to talk about. Tell me about your childhood. Were you raised by wolves or something?" he asked, jokingly.

As usual, she didn't seem to catch the joke, or simply ignored it:

"Wolves are hardly capable of raising anything other than their own offspring." She said, with a shake of her head, before continuing:

"I grew up alone. That is all I will say."

"I see. Touchy subject. But what will you say, then? Help me out here." He continued.

The elevator doors slid open as they arrived in the lobby, and she walked out with a sigh.

"I do not often talk, Courier. I can fight. That is all that matters."

"Perhaps to you. But alright, I'll leave it for now." He said.

They quickly made their way through the lobby, and out through the main doors.

Stopping up outside, it became apparent that today was a busy day. Flocks of NCR soldiers were passing up and down the Strip, already drunk and disorderly. Apparently they were on leave today. The Courier only hoped the duo would be left alone. Not because the troopers were a threat, but he wasn't sure how Lyannah would handle a few sleazy comments. If he could avoid having to explain a few unconscious soldiers to the local NCR ambassador, that would be preferable.

Luckily, as they made their way through the crowd, they got away with only a few odd stares. As they entered Freeside, they found it significantly less crowded than the Strip, and thus made quick progress through the streets. The Courier led them through the alleys, until they arrived at a small courtyard next to the large metal wall that circumfered the entire city.

"What exactly are we doing?" Lyannah asked, as she threw a quick look around the area.

"Target practice." He answered, gathering up a few empty cans and bottles, which he found lying around in the piles of rubble. He went to place them on a nearby bench, and then stepped back to Lyannah, placing himself behind her.

She turned her head over her shoulder:

"You want me to fight bottles? Live targets are better. Forces you to learn quickly." She said.

He let out a light laugh, until the expression on her face told him she wasn't joking:

"Uhm... okay. Just start with the bottles, so we don't get killed. How's that sound?" he asked.

She tugged on her shoulders, facing back towards the makeshift targets:

"If you insist."

He nodded, and cleared his throat:

"Alright, so remember what I showed you yesterday; Pull the gun, load it, and remove the safety."

She rolled her eyes, pulling the pistol and doing as he asked. To his surprise, she already operated the weapon as if she had been using it for a long time. She had either used the night for practicing, or she was a quick learner.

Apparently his surprise was obvious, because she shook her head slowly, with a sigh:

"I am surprised by the technology in this world, but not utterly stupid. Stop treating me as such." She said.

He let out a light snort, stepping back from her:

"Alright. Let's see you shoot then." He said.

She nodded, and quickly placed both hands on the pistol. She gave herself a moment to learn the sights, but then squeezed off a single round, that shattered one of the bottles.

Despite her first shot being a hit, she didn't seem all that satisfied. After pondering to herself for a moment, she let her right hand drop, and stood with the gun in one hand only.

The Courier quickly stepped back up to her:

"Hold on there, you don't want to fire it like that."

Despite his protests, she fired the weapon again, placing a second bullet right on target. Without hesitation, she continued firing until all of the cans and bottles he had put up were on the ground. Once done, she flicked the safety back on, and stuck the pistol into the holster, turning to the Courier with a stubborn look on her face:

"Yes I do. Having a 'pistol' should not compromise my ability to use the sword. This will do fine."

He found himself staring at her. He wasn't sure what to make of it all. He was a great shooter himself, probably one of the best in the wasteland. But just now, she had seemingly mastered shooting in a minute. It was as if she had an instinctive understanding of weapons. It was fairly intimidating, he thought to himself, but also impressive. Attractive, even.

He took a step closer, letting his eyes scan over her. She was a beautiful woman, with a fierce personality, and the skills to defeat anyone that would stand against her. A dangerous, but ensnaring cocktail. She would bow to no one.

"Nice shooting." He finally said.

She couldn't have avoided noticing the way he had been staring at her, but she didn't seem to mind it. She nodded lightly, lifting her eyes to meet his:

"Thank you. Was there anything... more?" she asked, drawing on that last word.

He shrugged lightly:

"I just can't help but wonder... what makes a woman like you so good at killing?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow skeptically:

"Necessity. What does it matter that I'm a woman?" she asked.

"Well, nothing. What I mean to ask is, what happened to you?" he continued.

She shook her head slowly:

"I'm still not entirely sure what you mean."

He sighed. Apparently, being straight up was the only way with her:

"I mean, why are you like this? Why do you act superior to everyone else? Why are you happy when you kill, but sad when you hear about my world? Why are you constantly so... severe?" he finally asked, crossing his arms.

Her eyes narrowed faintly, and she proceeded to stare at him for a while. He wasn't sure how she would react, given her rather aggressive nature. Perhaps she'd pull that gun and repay him for shooting her.

In the end, she just took a short step closer, and locked her eyes with his:

"You know why. I've been watching you. Watching the people that know you. I can see it in your eyes. You and me, we're the same. We've been through things no one else understands. We kill people, and we help people. We do horrible things, so that others can be free. We've played the same role in our respectable worlds. Though perhaps yours isn't done yet." She said. Her voice wasn't cold, nor hard or hateful. Her eyes didn't shine with burning rage. It was just pure, undeniable honesty, and despite how much he wanted to voice his disagreement, he couldn't.

She stepped back, turning away from him with a now bitter look on her face:

"The only difference is how we cope. Apparently you've handled it better than me."

He stood frozen to the spot for a moment, contemplating her words. Once again, she had left him wordless. Something which otherwise rarely happened.

Finally, he let out a sigh and stepped over behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder:

"Alright. But being angry and bitter all the time won't help anyone. Least of all you."

She seemed surprised by his touch, and turned her eyes down to stare at his hand awkwardly. For a while, she remained like that, but then slowly reached up, and placed her hand over his. She let it rest there for a moment, before gently lifting his hand off her shoulder.

"I suppose you're right." She finally mumbled.

"'Course I am. I help people, remember?" he continued.

She quickly looked up, and finally let out a slight laugh, shaking her head:

"Do not use my own words against me."

He chuckled lightly:

"Yeah, well, you asked for it. Now come on, let's go."

She nodded in reply, and followed close behind as he led the way back out through the maze of alleyways and tiny streets, until finally arriving at the gate that lead out into the wasteland.

As they began their journey along the torn up roads of the Mojave, he couldn't help but feel like the air between them had lightened significantly.

Perhaps, there was still hope for her.


	6. Chapter 6

"Shoot him."

The Courier turned his head, staring at Lyannah:

"What?"

She looked up, meeting his gaze with a determined look:

"Shoot him." She repeated.

He let out a deep breath, turning his eyes back down to the subject of their argument.

On the ground in front of the odd duo, a single man was lying, heaving for air. A deep, bloody gash reached across his torso, most likely inflicted by one of the many mutated beasts that inhabited the wasteland. The man was staring into the sky, too far gone in shock to even notice their presence.

"Perhaps we ought to help him instead." The Courier suggested.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head slowly:

"You know he won't make it. The only way we can help him now, is by granting him a quick death."

He stood staring at the man for a moment. Lyannah kept her eyes on him, and slowly uttered:

"It's a mercy."

As if that made it simpler. In the end, he turned on the spot, and stepped away from the man:

"You do it."

"Why?" she asked, not in protest, but out of interest.

He sighed, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it:

"9mm is cheaper."

She didn't respond, but he heard the slithering of a gun being drawn. He stared out over the sparsely vegetated plains and cliffs, until a single gunshot rang out from behind him. With that, the breathing stopped.

He turned back around to face the scene, and stepped over next to the body. He knelt down, inspecting the wound he had been inflicted. It was a large wound, and large wounds usually meant large creatures. Unsettlingly, his thoughts fell on the large reptilian deathclaws.

He stood up, brushing his hands off casually. Lyannah stared at him expectantly:

"So, what is your assessment? What killed him?" she asked.

"You did." He replied dryly.

She rolled her eyes:

"You know what I mean. Should we worry?"

He shrugged, inhaling deeply from his cigarette:

"Maybe. Whatever got to him was big, but I don't know why it let him live."

"Perhaps he wounded it." She suggested.

"Yeah, maybe. In any event, it can't be far. Otherwise, he would've already been dead when we found him." He concluded, scanning the surrounding area for anywhere a beast might have taken shelter.

A nearby canyon immediately caught his eyes. It wasn't too far, and even a limping beast could have made it there fairly quickly. He retrieved the hunting rifle from his back, and started trekking. Lyannah followed wordlessly. She had either come to the same conclusion as him, or just didn't care.

On their approach, the Courier noticed streaks of blood in the sand, conveniently trailing into the canyon. He sighed lightly, heaving one last breath of smoke from the cigarette before flicking it away, cocking his rifle. The passage ahead was narrow, and it was best to be prepared.

He looked back over his shoulder at Lyannah:

"Stay close in here." He muttered, earning a short nod from her. For once, there were no comments.

Their trek through the fissure went surprisingly quickly, and though they remained vigilant, nothing happened. Finally, they reached what appeared to be the end, and were faced with a steep cliff side. At the bottom of it, they found what would appear to be the source of the blood: Another body. The wounds were similar, except this man was already dead.

"Courier." Lyannah mumbled from behind.

He shook his head, staring at the diseased man:

"Not right now, I need to-" he started, but was interrupted when she punched his arm:

"Yes, right now."

He let out an irritated sigh, turning to face her:

"What? I'm trying to concentrate..." he started, but the words stuck in his mouth when he realized what she had wanted him to see.

From behind, a deathclaw was walking at them, claws spread out to the sides. It didn't seem to be in a hurry, leisurely walking along. It knew they couldn't get away.

A trap, he thought to himself in wonder. They were getting smarter. Without hesitation, he raised the rifle, firing at the thing. However, although the bullet found its target, the beast barely flinched. Instead, it let out a roar, and charged towards them. The Courier quickly cocked the rifle, firing another bullet towards the quickly approaching monstrosity, but still it kept coming.

Before he could manage to let off another round, it jumped at Lyannah, who was closest. To the surprise of both the deathclaw and the Courier, she swiftly rolled under it, drawing her blade. The beast instead focused on the Courier, and before he could manage to evade, it swept him to the side with a slash of its claws. Though his armor took most of it, he still felt the talons claw through his skin, and the force alone was enough to send him hammering into the cliff side.

He fell onto the ground, eyes rolling up to see the deathclaw stalking towards him. Yet just as it spread its claws, preparing for the final blow, Lyannah opened fire on its backside with her pistol. It didn't seem to do much more than annoy the beast, but she succeeded in redirecting its attention.

The Courier let out a groan, as he rolled over on the ground. He could feel the blood dripping where the claws had punctured his skin. To make matters worse, his back felt wrong, and his legs were unresponsive. Surprisingly, the pain wasn't much of an issue, but every moment he could feel his strength draining.

Through his steadily blurring vision, he could see Lyannah battling the deathclaw. Though the creature was slashing wildly at her, she seemed to effortlessly dodge, spinning and ducking around its claws. When an opening presented itself, she delivered blows with her sword, and although the damage from each strike was insignificant, the accumulated damage was wearing the beast down. It almost seemed like she was fooling around, dragging the fight out intentionally.

Finally, when the beast could barely remain standing, she dealt a final blow, piercing it through the chest. Without waiting for it to collapse, she turned her attention to the Courier. By now, he felt as if he was barely conscious.

She went to his side, kneeling down as she looked over his wounds. He wanted to say something, but all that left him was a slight grunt.

He blinked a few times, ultimately failing the struggle to keep his eyes open. In his last moments of consciousness, he felt her drag him along the ground, and heard as she muttered:

"Do not worry, Courier. I'll take care of you."

* * *

When his eyes blinked open again a while later, the sun was setting over the horizon. He was on the ground, and he found Lyannah crouched next to him, eyes closed as golden light flowed from her hands. He could feel his body absorb the stream, in what could only be explained as a wave of pure energy sailing through him. It rejuvenated him unlike anything the medicine of this world could, and it wasn't long before he felt fresh as ever, as if he had never been wounded in the first place.

He wanted to sit up, but as he tried Lyannah's eyes shot open, and she quickly placed a hand on his chest, holding him down:

"Give it a moment." She said, softly.

He felt entirely fine, but then again she was the expert on magic. It was probably best to do as she said. Instead, he threw a quick look around. She had moved him out of the rocky canyon where he had been wounded, and into a small cave in the cliffs. He wasn't sure how far she had dragged him, but he didn't remember having seen this place while they were on the road. No doubt it had been quite a distance. He only wondered how she had managed to carry him so far, and still seem completely unaffected now.

He looked up at her, as she sat and seemingly inspected him for any signs of wear:

"You used magic on me." He stated, obviously.

She nodded vaguely, with a thoughtful look on her face:

"Your spine was broken, and you lost a lot of blood. You would have died." She slowly explained.

He hadn't been aware of how serious his wounds were. He naturally appreciated her interest in keeping him alive, but his thoughts involuntarily drifted to her limited supply of energy:

"But what about going home?" he asked.

She tapped her knee with a sightly bothered expression:

"There's... enough."

Though he didn't think she would lie to him, he also had a suspicion that when she said enough, it really was only just enough.

"I see." He said, finally being allowed to sit up as he continued: "On that note, have you made any progress with your.. spell..?"

She nodded slowly:

"I have some ideas what might be wrong. But there's still no telling when I can go home."

Though she did her best to seem optimistic, he noticed the doubt in her voice. Or perhaps it was sadness. Either way, it was obvious they'd be staying together for a while.

With his interest spiked by their talk, he decided it was his turn to ask questions:

"I see. You know what, tell me about home."

She looked up at him, seemingly not expecting him to be interested:

"Skyrim, is its name. What would you like to know?"

He tugged on his shoulders lightly:

"I don't know. Tell me about the people. You must have some friends back there."

She nodded slowly:

"Yeah... friends. I did have some of those."

"Well, what happened to them?" he continued.

She shrugged:

"War."

That answer wasn't exactly what he had expected, and the only response he managed was a slight 'Oh'. It seemed like every time he talked to Lyannah, he managed to dig out one more bit of information about her, and as they went along, he started to understand why she had such an attitude. He didn't necessarily approve of her coping mechanism, but at least he was getting some idea where she was coming from. And as he painted the picture, it struck him that it wasn't at all pretty.

She'd said they played the same part in their respective worlds, and he too saw the connections. Still, he couldn't help but be worried that he'd end up like her. If he had to be entirely honest with himself, he felt bad for her.

Finally, he managed to gather his thoughts, and said:

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Once again, she tugged on her shoulders:

"It's done. No use thinking about it."

He turned his head to look at her. She didn't seem sad, but certainly wasn't exactly pleased either. She sat with a light frown, looking down at the dirt under her boots.

"What about other relationships then?" he continued.

She raised an eyebrow lightly, turning her head to look at him:

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well you must have had a lover or something back in Skyrim." He explained.

She let out a snort, shaking her head:

"No. Plenty have asked for my hand, but they were all fools, blinded by what they thought of as glory."

"You mean to tell me there isn't anyone you like?"

Her mouth dropped open lightly, and before she quickly looked away, he could have sworn he saw a slight blush in her cheeks:

"There's always someone. Now don't you think that is enough questions?" she asked.

This suddenly girly reaction came unexpected, and he wasn't exactly sure what to make of it.

"Alright, no more questions."

They sat for a while, backs against the cave wall, watching the sun sink down behind the horizon through the entrance to their shelter. As darkness descended over the desert outside, he remembered that there was still something he needed to say:

"By the way... thank you." He mumbled.

Through the corner of his eye, he could see as she turned her to look at him. She knew what he meant, and before long she turned away again, nodding slowly:

"It was the least I could do."

And before long, the darkness of night covered the land.


End file.
